


A Box of Trinkets

by merln



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, M/M, Mild Language, Misunderstandings, Post-Break Up, Song: exile (Taylor Swift ft. Bon Iver)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27837913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merln/pseuds/merln
Summary: Five months since the explosive end of their relationship, Wakatoshi receives a message to retrieve his belongings.
Relationships: Tendou Satori/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 5
Kudos: 36





	A Box of Trinkets

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed, but from the heart. This fic is from a terrible combination of too much Exile and UshiTen.
> 
> This one's for you bub (@gesumxnsxtxr)! i promised a fic and here it is. i hope it's your cup of tea. i'm still unsure if you're like me who's just a sucker for any ushiten angst but here we are lol ❤️

> "I'm thinking of selling the apartment. I heard you're in town, drop by to get your stuff."

Wakatoshi stared blearily at the text message displayed on his phone screen. Rubbing his face with his hands, he recalls the notification ping when he received the message at daybreak, lighting up his face against the darkness of his hotel room, as if taunting him. 

He's been reading and re-reading the message looking for something. Something even he wasn't sure what. Was it hope? a fight? the emojis Satori always used to fill certain spaces? Grunting, he stood up from his position on the couch where he had been lazing on all morning. He trudges to the bathroom, dropping his phone carelessly on the way. Trying and failing not to think about how Satori's quirks used to made fondness bloom on his chest, which now only illicit an intense sort of ache.

He arrived at the door of the apartment two hours later. Taking a steadying breath, he knocked. 

_"Hm?" Wakatoshi hummed as he felt Satori's hand on his jacket's pocket. It's been their thing what with Satori's sensitivity to the cold and his relentless insistence of remaining true to his "fashion", almost always forgoing a coat. Wakatoshi has been his personal heating tool ever since their high school days, when walking from the gymnasium to the dorms during winter was a training in and of itself._

_The two have been walking back from a midnight convenience store run after a day of socialising and catching up with their fellow Shiratorizawa Alumnae. The group was loud and the food had been gone before either of them got through most of their friends pleasantries. Wakatoshi transferred the bag on his left hand to his right making way for holding Satori's slowly warming hands in his pockets._

_A quirk of the lips and a mysterious look were the only warning he got before he felt a solid object in the middle of Satori's waiting hands. Taking the wedged piece out and then moving it to his right hand without even bothering to look at what it was, Wakatoshi finally, finally, intertwined their fingers. Warming each other._

_Satori faltered on his steps, laughing hard. "Not going to see what it is?"_

_As if reminded of the existence of his own curiosity, Wakatoshi lifted the tiny metal piece on his hand. A key with a volleyball design for the handle. Wakatoshi remained silent, no question or confirmation leaving his lips. Under a faded lamp post on the damp sidewalk of Sendai, Satori's eyes were shining, a huge grin and a whisper, "For when you want to visit."_

_Intertwined fingers on his pockets, the other hand thumbing the engraving on his key to Satori's apartment. Wakatoshi felt warmer than ever. And never the happier._

He knocked a third time and is still met with a resounding silence. He rested his forehead on the door letting it bang against the wood. Wondering whether he should have called first, maybe no one's home, or maybe he should have just asked Reon to go on his stead, or maybe–

The sound of shoes thumping across the hardwood floor prevented his thoughts into going haywire.

Satori opened the door not even looking or stopping for a breath before turning around and rattling off about one thing or the other. Something he does when he wants to avoid a confrontation. Wakatoshi's jaw clenched, but he remained silent. He followed inside while Satori fidgets with his keys far more than necessary. Oh, and did he hear about Kawanishi's new dog?

Wakatoshi stepped through the living room and stopped, emotions flooding back to him as he looked around. He closed his eyes as remembered the last time he’d been standing on that hallway.

_"Fuck Satori, I can't do this anymore" his voice cracking with lack of sleep and emotional exhaustion, his trembling hand had reached into his pocket and he’d glared at Satori's drunken face. "Guess I won't need this anymore," he’d snap. The clink of the key being chucked into the hardwood floor by the door had echoed in the silent room, the sound followed only by Satori's swallow._

_Wakatoshi had snuck one final look at Satori. His red hair dishevelled, his pupils blown from alcohol or maybe something even stronger. His open shirt, missing two buttons, was proudly showing off the messy lipstick stains below his Adam’s apple. A statement for Wakatoshi. Loud and clear. Satori had stared at the key as if he'd expected this all along and couldn’t even get the energy to act surprised. And maybe that had been the point, a great spectacle to force Wakatoshi to walk out because both of them didn’t have the balls to end anything._

_Wakatoshi's chest had tightened until he thought he could no longer breathe. He’d rushed out the door, afraid of words that would follow. He’d made it onto the street and a few buildings away before he’d even let himself think of what he’d just done. What he’d left behind. What both of them gave up on._

He was lifted from his stupor by the sound of a chair squeaking through the floor. The ache of memories raw and buzzing beneath his skin. He’d expected... honestly, he didn't know what he expected. A redecorated apartment? A place he barely recognised? Everything inside bare and boxes piled at the door ready for him to pick up? But it looked exactly how he’d left it that morning, months ago. Exactly, except for the layer of dust that quietly blanketed everything he held dear.

His eyes fell to the small glinting metal on the floor by the door still there as though it were waiting for him to come back. His fingers itched to return it to its proper place. He picked up the key, tracing the engraved SW on the back of the handle. It had been a gift. An invitation to Satori's personal life. 

He stopped letting his mind backtrack. He didn’t have a key. Well, not anymore.

"Earth to Wakatoshi" Satori whispered, leaning in close, his words quiet.

Wakatoshi dropped the key, not having heard Satori's return, and stepped back to put some distance between them. He rubbed the spot Satori's arm had hit before he could stop himself. The hair at Satori's temple was wet as if he’d just splashed water on his face. It was a comforting thought.

"So where are they?" Wakatoshi looked around, anxious to get out, get away.

"Where are what?"

"The boxes of my stuff?"

Satori snorted as if he was in on a joke Wakatoshi just told. Walking into the kitchen, a beat pass between them, "Oh, you weren't joking."

Wakatoshi heard the opening of the fridge and the glass clink of the pitcher being put down. Wakatoshi's pitcher.

Wakatoshi followed Satori into the kitchen and noticed his favourite cup on the counter where he’d always left it to dry. He ran a thumb through the dust gathered on the base. "I thought you still lived here?"

Satori fiddled with the loose handle on the cabinet, averting his gaze with red-rimmed eyes. Wakatoshi had always planned on fixing that. "With all the shit cluttering up this place?"

Satori's tone was light, but Wakatoshi wasn’t fooled. Satori knew how to hurt, and knew best how to hurt Wakatoshi. They'd spent too many hours and traveled too many places collecting things that would make their little apartment theirs. A home. For the both of them to go back to. 

"I've replaced most of it actually," Wakatoshi parried back.

Satori paled and guilt soured in Wakatoshi's belly at the petty lie. Satori always brought out the worst in Wakatoshi when they fought, made him brash as he usually was back in highschool. Satori's eyes had gone cold. Wakatoshi knew that a little more push and the can of worms they've both been avoiding will spill out like a knocked cup of water.

Wakatoshi couldn't let them go there, he wouldn't make it through the day if they did. "I’m just here to get my stuff, Satori. Not for trips down memory lane."

Satori's eyes flashed and he finally met Wakatoshi's eyes.

* * *

He looked away quickly. Satori can’t look. Wakatoshi is in front of him and Satori can’t look. He’s worried he’ll say something he'll regret. He’s worried he’ll see the damage he’s done to Wakatoshi, or the damage he hasn’t.

He remembers being swept up in those green eyes, but now they’re guarded. They never used to be, not to him. Satori was always allowed in.

"That makes the two of us," he moved towards the door and walked in, leaving it open behind him and disappearing down the hallway with a determined stride.

He went back to the bathroom to take a break and compose himself for what felt like the millionth time today. Staring at his own reflection on the mirror, he recalls the night after all of it went down.

_Satori walked out the door and hailed a cab to Semi's at three in the morning. Upon opening his door, His friend gaped at him with half-open eyes, bleary and confused._

_Satori looked like he’d pulled himself through a storm – a storm of misery and grief and his hopeless love for Wakatoshi, and he almost got completely swept away with the debris._

_“Semisemi,” he choked and Semi wordlessly let him in. He spent that night thinking of all the fights he and Wakatoshi ever had._

_This had to end. He couldn't continue trying to pretend everything was okay with them. It's been going_ _on for weeks. The tension between them being stretched too thin. Wakatoshi had been working himself to the bone – he’s stressed and tired all the time. It’s not just Wakatoshi. Satori had to travel sometimes for work, and the trips increased significantly that month. His job also time sensitive. He became short-tempered from all the jet-lag and constant moving and time differences. They snapped at each other constantly, got angry when Wakatoshi complained about him spending less and less time at home, made all sorts of ridiculous, groundless claims. Thinking about everything within the darkness of a friend's guest room made it all seemed so simple. So far away. At some point he managed to make even Ushijima Wakatoshi insecure. Of all the things he couldn't remember, every image of Wakatoshi's distraught expressions were imprinted in his memory_

_Satori explained it all the next day. Semi had no idea it had gotten so bad, in fact, none of their friends had. They both had always made their problems seem smaller than it was. But even Semi didn’t quite believe how it worsened._

_"But you were perfect for each other."_

_Satori gave a sad smile at that. “And then we weren’t.”_

_“Just like that?”_

_“Maybe."_

_Lying on the bed, Satori wondered if that's just how it was. Just a series of shifts in dynamics. The changes seemed gradual and slow, but there had already been a set point in time where things changed, words were said and promises were broken and feelings declined. Or it was just that moment of realisation that was always late, when one day someone simply woke up and had that "oh" moment and knew that it was never going to be the same again, there was no going back, only a nonstop advance towards the future._

_Or maybe he was just trying to make reasons for himself and for everything he'd just lost._

* * *

"Right" Wakatoshi could only sigh as he looked under the cupboard for the cardboard boxes they kept after he moved in. Leaving the kitchen and the silent presence Satori left in the room, he head to the dining room.

The first thing he picked up was the cuckoo figurines. It had been a Christmas present from Oikawa and Iwaizumi, so he classified it as ‘his’. Oikawa had only sent the present for the satisfaction that Wakatoshi and Satori would be reminded they were cuckoo on a regular basis – or so the card had said. He carefully wrapped the cuckoo and placed it in the box then moved to the bigger display cabinet on the other side of the room.

The cabinet held a jumble of frames of various sizes and shapes, some filled with family and friends, but mostly the photos showed Wakatoshi and Satori -- laughing and kissing, sharing secret smiles as they looked at each other. There seemed to be a ridiculous number of them. He’d leave them all to Satori to dispose in any fashion of his choice. He was so good at getting rid of things after all.

Then his eyes caught a particular one at the back. Wakatoshi couldn’t help but pick up the heavy cherry frame and watch the happy couple with a pang of envy. It had been taken during their New Year’s dinner– turned to party, the first time their friends had visited the apartment. They’d been together for a year and a half by that point, still living separate lives. Until one day Wakatoshi had realised he hadn’t been back to his own place in a month, and Satori had only ever purchased yet another thing for the both of them for their apartment. That Christmas they’d officially moved in together.

The day they moved in together is still one of Wakatoshi's favourite moments. The new furniture all arrived in the morning and they spent the rest of the day unpacking the boxes. Satori directed the setting of the rooms and how to organize their things. Wakatoshi gives his input on it from time to time. Wakatoshi's things easily filled the gap on every room, as if it's just waiting for him. Both of them slotting on each other's life like perfect pieces.

At the day of their New Year's dinner slash party, Satori's incessant need to have everything in specific order kept him busy the entire day and by the time he managed to slow down a bit the doorbell was already ringing. Satori spent the entire time entertaining guests, and teasing. Teasing Wakatoshi had been his hobby for the better part of the month. He'd pass by Wakatoshi and touch his arm briefly or give him a look from across the room while confidently answering questions about his job or even simply brushing their fingers lightly before quickly pulling away that would left Wakatoshi hanging. After Satori's second time licking something off of his fingers, they had to sneak away into their rooms in the middle of the festivities.

The picture Wakatoshi held now was taken by Yamagata as they stumbled out of their room, their cheeks flushed and hair damp. Satori's swollen lips were pulled in a broad grin as he looked at the camera to the applause and wolf-whistles of everyone they held dear. 

Wakatoshi felt the burn of longing in his chest. He placed the photo on the table and wrapped it in several layers of newspaper. He didn’t know where he’d keep it. Maybe on the far corner at the top of his drawer to take out and look at once he'd let himself go and drunk enough to forget he wasn’t supposed to remember those times because it hurt too much. Even if he never dared pull it out again, he just couldn’t leave it to Satori's elimination.

He turned to grab the few photos on the cabinet that were less painful. One of each of his parents and of his Adler's friends and the Shiratorizawa team that coach Washijo had given him, the one from Goshiki's 21st birthday and his first ever olympic medal. They would maybe add a bit of life to the new apartment he'll have to buy. Maybe stop Reon's eyes from filling with pity once he came by.

Wakatoshi sat down heavily on the dining room chair. He could hear Satori somewhere in the apartment banging things about. Outside a car honked and a man cursed at it. Wakatoshi tried to calm his breathing. It wasn't like he didn’t know that one day he’d have to come back and pick up the pieces of his shattered life. It had been five months of burying himself in practice and trying to get by and not think.

Now it seemed the world was crashing down on him all over again.

He’d sat in this very seat at the dining room table the last time he was in the apartment. The candle wax still melted on the table top. Wakatoshi had stared at the candle for hours that night, watching the wax build up and eventually dripped down the table. The plates of food in front of and across from him sat untouched. The meal he’d worked on for their anniversary dinner had gone completely cold sometime around three in the morning.

He’d still been at the table when Satori had stumbled in at dawn.

Wakatoshi pressed the heel of his hand into his eyes, bitterness quickly replacing regret. He shot up from his chair and started shoving everything he vaguely recognised as his own in the box. He needed to finish packing and get out of here. Far from here. Move on. Forget.

* * *

Satori went to the living room packing up what he can. What he'll need to pick himself up after all this, glue his fragile world back together and maybe hope that one day, one day, the cracks will disappear. At the corner of the room is a box of random knick knacks Wakatoshi had hastily packed up from the kitchen. A pair of coffee mugs. A couple of memory coasters. All the random items filled with days of slammed doors, lazy mornings, cuddly weather, and a lifetime worth of unsaid words.

Wakatoshi caught him pensive in the middle of the room. His cheeks were wet. He hates seeing Wakatoshi cry, especially because he doesn’t very often. Satori can probably count the times he’s seen him cry on his fingers.

Wakatoshi stares at him, puzzled. He moved around slowly and Satori finally notices it— the fatigue. Wakatoshi's skin is dull and pale and he has dark rings under his eyes. Satori can see faint stubble on Wakatoshi's jaw from not shaving properly.

And he knew that they have to end it properly, he needs to hear it from Wakatoshi as much as Wakatoshi have to hear it from him.

* * *

The kitchen and dining room was cleared in short order and Wakatoshi moved to the living room. He entered to find Satori standing in the middle of the room, a small glass with a maple leaf inside in hand and a faraway look on his face.

Wakatoshi frowned at the glass. Shirabu had given it to them. An odd sort of gift that he’d never understood and Satori hadn’t bothered to explain at the time. Wakatoshi had put it off and... time ran out on them. Wakatoshi was not going to ask now. He cleared his throat.

"You can keep it, if you want it."

Satori looked directly at him. Wakatoshi had to take a step back at the sudden fury that flashed in Satori's eyes. "Fuck you. You don't deserve such a gift."

Anger flared in Wakatoshi's chest, squeezing at his lungs at the intensity of Satori's retort, the hate in his eyes. If he didn’t leave he’d say something cruel and unforgivable. And futile – words only seemed to rip them further apart. "I’ll just pack the other room," Wakatoshi snapped, wanting to be anywhere but with Satori. He turned to leave.

"Ushijima Wakatoshi walking away. Now that's a sight I’m used to."

Wakatoshi spun around. The air thick as syrup. He didn’t bother trying to rein in his expression. "No. You don’t get to be like that. You’re–"

Satori stepped up to him, eyes blazing. Wakatoshi thought he was about to be punched. "I’m what? I’m the one that didn't lied and didn’t lead you on for god knows how long."

Wakatoshi's brows furrowed. The words were shouted, shot at his face with enough vitriol to make him want to take a step back, yet he couldn’t make sense of them. "Wh-what? What? Satori, that doesn’t... what?"

Satori ignored him and stride off to their bedroom. Wakatoshi followed after him. He could see the red of Satori's ear as he tugged at the top corner of Wakatoshi's drawer.

"You probably wouldn’t want to forget this." Satori chucked out a small box to Wakatoshi.

Speechless, Wakatoshi looked from the box back to Satori. Satori's eyes were cold, shuttered off.

Wakatoshi gaped and, in a daze, open the box with a trembling hand. He received it after his first olympic game from his mother, with her face so full of hope and dreams for his future – a wife and kids, a small house and maybe a dog. He'd been considering it that summer, he wasn't sure if it was for their approval. But Goshiki – Goshiki of all people – had taken him aside. He’d told Wakatoshi to wait, told him that everyone needed time to figure those type of big decisions out. That, that decision isn't something he should be making with doubts.

Wakatoshi lifted the ring out of the box. The delicate band and single diamond were so familiar, like their image had been etched into Wakatoshi's mind. He turned the ring in his hand and the light caught the engraving: AKUW. It tugged at his chest, the emotions of the day wearing him raw. "How did you find it?"

"If you didn't want anyone to see it, you should've hidden it better."

"And you make a habit out of going through the top of my drawer? Looking at the storage and what? And what— dusting?"

He’d kept it never intending for it to see the light of day. But he’d kept it anyway. He liked knowing it was there, a reminder of the best decision he’d ever made in not giving in to his mother's pressure, in not giving it to Kanoka. Of not going through what his mother had expected him to. He and Kanoka had been good friends since they were kids, his mother approved of her but she hadn't wanted to be tied down just yet. He let her walk away, and kept the ring without an ounce of regret.

Across from Wakatoshi, Satori stared, "Mattsun found it," he spat.

"Oh. Sure, that’s better. You get Matsukawa to snoop through my things to see what I might be hiding. I’m so glad our relationship was based on trust and honesty."

Satori's mouth opened and closed once, then again. Eyes filled with incredulity, "We were joking about. He was looking around since they've been saying that I'd bought you a ring for our anniversary."

Satori swallowed, softening his voice to barely above a whisper. "Imagine my surprise when he did found a ring."

The words hung in the air as Wakatoshi tried to process them. And suddenly he could see it all: he’d been practicing late the past few nights, wanting to pick up extra training so he could take a break the day before the big day to make Satori's favourite dinner for their anniversary. Satori had been acting odd, feigning sleep when Wakatoshi had arrived home, not meeting Wakatoshi's eyes when he'd pecked his cheek before leaving. But Wakatoshi hadn’t questioned it. He didn’t like to question things like that.

"Fuck." Wakatoshi stared at the ring and suddenly hated it. For all that it once stood for the best decision he’d ever made, keeping it had been the worst. He walked to the window, an ache in his throat and a sting behind his eyes at what it had cost him. Opened it, and throw the ring out as far as he could.

Satori watched him, silent for a second, and then he laughed, hard and cruel. "What? Don't tell me she's not taking you back."

Something snapped and Wakatoshi stride towards Satori hand pressing hard on his shoulder, "It's so fucking stupid that you think I’m interested in marrying Kanoka after all these years. I received that ring when I was nineteen, all right? I kept it around just to remind me how stupid it was that I even considered it back then. How desperate—" Wakatoshi's voice caught on the confession. It was too much, all just too much and way too late. He took a step back, letting Satori go.

Satori closed the distance Wakatoshi had just put between them. "Desperate to be what? To be 'normal'? Desperate to be accepted by everyone? Nothing’s changed. Just marry her. You’re good at pretending, aren’t you, Wakatoshi?"

"Fuck you, Satori," his breath growing ragged as it always did when they fought. "I don’t need Kanoka for that. I just— I thought it would've been what I wanted. God, I just once thought that my parents will always knew what's best for me. I couldn't have known how wrong I was."

"Says the guy who walked away from everything."

"You did that." Wakatoshi pointed his finger at Satori's face. "You fucked around."

"I didn’t fuck around! I was furious and hurt but I didn't fuck around. I got drunk. And Yukie and her other friends were there. There was never anything more than that."

Wakatoshi paused, letting the words sink in, trying to make sense of them, decipher the truth. "You never said."

"For fucks sake Wakatoshi! You left. We got into this huge argument and the first thing you did was fly halfway across the world as far as you can from me."

"You made me think you cheated!"

"I was mad!" Satori paced the room, arms in the air. "Fuck! I was so fucking angry. You had a ring for her on standby! Waiting for when you get tired and decided that you really did want that white picket fenced house!"

"That’s not what it was!"

"You were perfect for each other. Everyone knows it. God, your mother always thought that what we had was a mistake. A phase. And they were so right, weren’t they?"

"My mother wanted the best for me but we haven't agreed for awhile on what we both think is best." Wakatoshi knew that Satori had reservations regarding his family. How he'd felt like being with him had forced Wakatoshi to choose. Had strained Wakatoshi's relationship with his mother. But Wakatoshi was seething, "And what, the moment we broke up you go and run to whoever could give you the fastest comfort?"

"You left and you didn't come back! I waited here... I went back and waited here. Nothing happened. There was never anything."

"Could have fooled me. Actually, you did fool me. I’d been up all night waiting for you, worried sick— was about to call the entire phone book and get a search party. Because what would make you miss our anniversary?"

Satori sat heavily on the bed, his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands, and Wakatoshi knew that the fight was all out of him. Circular arguments had always exhausted him. Kanoka and Matsukawa and his mother and their work... they were all arguments that ended like this, Satori spent and falling silent, the echoes of their shouts still bouncing in each other’s heads.

"It’s over, Satori." Wakatoshi whispered, the words cutting at his tongue. No matter that Satori had thought Wakatoshi had cheated, that it was all just a mess of misunderstandings and poorly timed silences, insecurity and pride, the fact remained that they should have talked it through. And that they didn't. They hadn’t trusted each other enough to find out the truth. "Let’s just leave it alone. It doesn’t matter anymore."

Satori didn’t look up, didn’t move and Wakatoshi couldn’t make himself walk out. So he began to pack up the room, ignoring the slumped form of Satori on the bed they had once shared.

He started with the drawer, sighing at all the clothes he’d left. He’d had to buy everything in those first few weeks, too stubborn to come back to the apartment even to fetch his toothbrush and volleyball shoes. Not coming back had been the only revenge he’d had and he’d played it well. His eyes flickered to the bed. All too well.

Wakatoshi moved to the lower drawers when a soft thud made him look up.

Satori stood next to him, his index finger pushing forward the velvet box he’d just placed on the drawer.

Wakatoshi straightened, looking between the box and Satori, his heart in his throat.

Satori nudged the box, "Have it." The words came out all broken and he cleared his throat and tried again. "Have it. I don’t want it."

Wakatoshi stared and with a trembling hand, opened the box. Inside was a platinum ring, a delicate yet sturdy looking thing. His instinct was to shove it back in Satori's face. Throw it out the window just like he did the other one. 

Satori was not looking at him, but the ring on his hand with red-rimmed eyes and an open face, a look so heart breaking that Wakatoshi's heart broke all over again for what they’d lost. A sliver of hope bloomed, wondering if two idiots deserved a second chance.

"It’s lovely," Wakatoshi managed, though the words barely made it out. He picked up the ring. It was lighter than it looked, thin and solid like it would be perfect on the finger of a volleyball player. A chain at the back of the box was shining ready for it to be worn on his convenience. Without thinking, he slipped it on.

Satori held a quiet gasp. He gave Wakatoshi a broken smile, "I thought I’d never see it on you."

Something in Satori's voice cut straight through Wakatoshi's defences, shattering his fragile resolve. Comforting Satori had been as natural as breathing once upon a time. And after all this time it was so easy to go back. Before he could stop himself, Wakatoshi wrapped his arms around Satori's shoulders, burying his face at the top of Satori's head. 

"This is so stupid," he said into Satori's hair as he kissed his temple.

Satori huffed and nuzzled his nose into the crook of Wakatoshi's neck. "You didn’t come back. You were supposed to come back."

Wakatoshi pulled back enough to capture Satori's lips in a slow, chaste kiss. The silence between them heavy with everything that's still left unsaid but they both knew that their relationship had changed, _they_ changed, and it’s not going to be necessarily a bad thing. It was going to take days or a lifetime of talking, catching up on belated kisses and murmured apologies for everything, and it's not going to be easy. But they swallowed down so many words today already and this – this is the one that matters the most.

"Next time," Wakatoshi promised, "I’ll come back." His lips grazed Satori's mouth, cheeks, nose and the softening frown on his face.

When he pulled back, Satori kept his eyes closed. Wakatoshi waited, drawing out the moment, until Satori was ready again.

And when he opened his eyes. Wakatoshi knew that they'd be okay. Satori blinked a couple of times, his eyes falling on Wakatoshi's face, looking like home.

"Next time, I won’t let you leave."


End file.
